Things that happen

Right before going to the empanada shop, I stopped into Farmacity, one of the local chain pharmacies that actually let you touch everything in the store.  (Other pharmacies are straight out of the 19th century, where you walk up to a counter and tell the pharmacist / attendant what you want.  At night, after the pharmacy has “closed,” you stand outside the roll-down security grate and call for the pharmacist, who attends you through that riot gate.)  Walking in, a young salesgirl handed me a promo cologne vial in a cardboard sleeve.  I made the mistake of saying, “Gracias,” which around here is usually answered by, “¡Pero no!” or some such other retort that indicates that you shouldn’t bother to utter thanks (this, incidentally, is far more common in Uruguay, where people tend to be deferential…in short, I still don’t know how to express appreciation here).  At this point in the trip, it has become my expectation that security scrutinize me while shopping, usually by following me around and pretending not to be there, which of course happened at Farmacity.  I’m sure it’s because I’m looking at everything, because everything is just so different from what I’m used to and, therefore, interesting.  What other description is there for someone who looks at displays of US $10 contact solution, analgesics, toothpastes and alfajores?  So, I finally just said “¡Hola!” to the security guard at the end of one of the aisles (NB: “¡Hola! ¿Qué tal?” is the greeting of choice here in BA, even where formal greetings would be required in other regions), and went back to my product investigation.  Finding a suitable bottle of Off! Extra Duración in preparation for the trip to Iguazú, I rounded the corner, where the little glass cologne vial slipped out of the cardboard container and smashed on the floor.  Picking up the pieces and then a couple of individually-wrapped alfajores, I headed for the cash registers, hoping that the cologne cloud wouldn’t hit before I’d finished checking out.